Remembrance
by 14RosemaryIsland
Summary: Ophelia in the moments leading up to her death. Chapter 1 First person, Chapter 2 Third person.  The method to her madness, if you will.
1. Chapter 1: Her Method

**It is advisable to read this first:** I was fortunate enough to be in a local production of Hamlet as Ophelia I wasn't completely sure how to approach her (Sane let alone crazy) but this is written in the moments leading to her death. The first chapter is in first person; the second chapter is third person.

Please enjoy and let me know what you think.

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><p><strong><span>Remembrances<span>**

Rosemary! Rosemary! Rosemary!

Where are you?

I picked you once, you naughty flowers!

Why do you hide?

Perhaps they are afraid

No, don't be afraid little Rosemary

My good brother will take great care of you

Like he did with me

And so does my father…

Father, where are you?

Where did you go?

It was I who hid from you!

I was silly

With brother and Lord Hamlet

Lord Hamlet…

What did he say to me?

Why haven't I seen him?

He gave me letters…

Letters about…

Love?

But he lied…he did not…

"_How should I you true love know_

_From another one,_

_By his cockle hat and staff_

_And his sandals shoon"_

We would hide in the boughs of the willow!

Us silly children

Playing in the willow branches...

Father, where have you gone?

Are you waiting for me?

I will come.

It seemed so high to us three

Climbing to the top and playing

Us three...

They would always be there, waiting for me

Why aren't they waiting for me now?

Where _are_ you father?

Are you higher up?

I will come.

Oops! O, never mind that

We would sit and listen to the wind

_Where are you father?_

What was that?

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Sitting in the tree until dusk

You would call me, father

Me and Laertes

You asking where we were

Asking us to come for dinner

Ha! Dinner!

What does dinner matter when you can sit in a tree?

When you can watch the sun go down?

Tree stop making noises!

I'm trying to think!

You would call us to come home to you

Father?

Eek!

O, its cold…

Why can't I find you father?

Are you gone?

Gone…

"_Then up he rose and donn'd his clothes_

_And dupp'd the chamber door,"_

Yes…

Father!

I'm coming father!

Don't let dinner get too cold!

I'm awfully cold

It's dark here…no...Wait...it's getting lighter!

It's very quiet…

I never liked quiet

"_They bore him barefac'd on the bier,_

_Hey non Nonny, Nonnny, hey Nonny"_

Much better!

"_And will he not come again, _

_Will he not come again,_

_No, no he is dead _

_go to thy death bed,_

_He never will come again"._

So pretty…

Such a lovely tune…

O, look!

Rosemary!

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><p><strong>The next chapter explains things better<strong>** and the bits in quotes are in fact the actual lyrics by Sir William Shakespeare; I hope it was to your liking!**


	2. Chapter 2:  Her Maddness

She wanders down a path, not often trod. Wild greenery has grown across it but the vague imprints of children's feet can still be seen. She runs, searching, hair billowing out behind her. Muddy blood streaked feet fit perfectly into the light dents of the past in the dirt.

"Rosemary," she calls, once, twice, thrice. She stops and listens intently cocking her head to one side hearing the whispering of the landscape. She freezes, suddenly statuesque then bursts into peals of infantile giggles. But this too stops as abruptly as it started and a shadow of concern flashes over her face. She goes back to scanning the field she resides in.

She slows; face contorted with puzzlement, then stops and appears to be in deep thought. Her expression now blank she sways slightly, rocking in the breeze, posture suggesting she could simply dissolve at any given moment. She jerks and doubles over pressing tensing every muscle in her body trying to squeeze out the bad. Her and hand automatically flying to the framed crimson pendant that hangs around her neck; clutching it so that is coloured a darker shade. vibrant azure irises cloud and she hums a ballad, rocking rhythmically back and forth, gradually straightening up as her fragile silvery voice echoes across the agoraphobic plane. Once she finishes she sets out again, eyes fixed on a spot in the distance.

She breaks into a run until she arrives at the edge of a forest. Avoiding footfalls and ruts she nimbly carries onward until she reaches the bank of a rushing creek that cuts through the various flora and fauna. A willow tree sits languidly, offering shelter from the sun. She stops and giggles again, a smile spreading on the apples of her flushed cheeks. She walks around the tree peering into the upper branches and her smile widens as her eyes glaze over, replaying a memory. She appears confused for a split second then she grabs a low branch, staining it red, and hoisting herself onto the trunk for leverage. She clambers onto another limb but the sound of tearing fabric cuts through the murmuring of the brook as her gown rips on the harsh bark.

She sighs disapprovingly but continues to scale the willow her features obscured by drooping leaves, only her silhouette remains visible, a blur of frenzied movement, for she has not felt freedom's embrace for many years. The sun sinks lower in the cloudless sky and casts an unearthly hue across the leaves transforming them into golden raindrops. She climbs on

Finally reaching the uppermost branch she looks down, swinging her legs. She can see the babbling current below her. She closes her eyes and lets memories wash over her, of childhood, of happiness, of innocence. A refreshing breeze dries the sweat that has glued her hair to her face. The breeze carries a faint smell of lilacs for it has brushed through the fields and gently plucked flower heads from their stems. She grins (perhaps a little too widely) whilst in a physical oxymoron tears unconsciously seep out from under her closed eyelids

A sharp crack breaks the pleasant sound of nature and her eyes flutter open.

"Crack, crack, crack," She copies delightedly and cackles wildly at the amusing sound then melts back into her reveries, "father" she utters then once again laughs softly. Another resounding Crack prompts her to scold the tree as a mother would a naughty child. The sun has dipped lower and the sky is now a rosy-scarlet dome. Then suddenly she is weightless, falling, falling leaves of the willow surrounding her in a whirlwind of lush jade. She gives a little yelp but soon becomes fascinated with the swirling tornado she is currently engulfed in. Her fall is broken by the brook which she lands in with an almighty splash. She water rushes over her enclosing her in its depth with only her lips above the surface. Her clothes and hair mushroom out and ripple in slow motion, dancing within the water. The cold is shocking but not entirely unpleasant.

The momentary distraction of falling headlong into a stream is no matter to her and she refocuses on what she was trying to remember before. It comes to her, without warning and suffice it to say it was not pleasant. Her pupils rapidly dilate, she freezes, not moving nor breathing, mouth forming a horrified 'o' as the thoughts begin to swallow the reminder of her mind. She begins to sing to calm herself; a haunting reflection of innocent joy lacing the melody giving it an eerie tone as icy liquid fingers encase her midriff.

"_The up he rose and donn'd his clothes"_ she continues though the water now washes over her face. Her eyes dim and her lips move underneath the current silently mouthing another tune, little bubbles float upwards as she sings.

As the last rays of sun vanish and the stars begin to show the last light fades from her sapphire eyes leaving them blank but her pale face is ever preserved in peacefulness. As she is pushed into an inlet she stops and her arms drift freely by her sides, everything about her is relaxed. The breeze picks up again and a single stalk of rosemary glides fluidly on then comes to rest above her, sending tiny circles outwards.

She will be found within the hour and all the details will be reported to the queen. She will be stricken with grief then asked to be left alone. For all she will hear, will be the childish voice of an insane young woman calmly explaining

"_Rosemary, that's for remembrance, pray you, love, remember"_.

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><p><strong>Here's a back story for clarification:<strong> I pictured her going to the willow tree because it was where she used to play with her brother and Hamlet as a little girl. Polonius would call them home for dinner and they would have to come quickly so he didn't find their hiding spot. In her head, sitting in the tree she heard her father calling her. Her mind blocked out the traumas she'd been through and reverted her into a childlike state, a 6 year old in a 16 year old's body. On some level she knew her father was missing and even deeper she knew he was not coming back, she just did not want to register it. She sees herself coming to him she dies but I don't believe that it was suicide, she never thought of it as dying, she thought of it as coming home for dinner. Again, this is my interpretation, analyze as you will.

There are references in here to her different manifestations of insanity which can be hard to follow (one of thoise things that's easier seen than read I suppose) and also references to this specific production (i.e. the necklace grabbing; it was a gift from Hamlet, she tries to redeliver it to him in the 'Nunnery' scene) so if you have any questions, comments or concerns please let me know.

Anon!


End file.
